


"Stiles, I Know"

by cvptainmarvel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, and Cuteness, and stiles being a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2252124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvptainmarvel/pseuds/cvptainmarvel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and running don't mix well, but Stiles and you mix very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Stiles, I Know"

Cross country.  Oh how he hated to run.  Just because Coach Finstock decided that the lacrosse team had to condition during the the off-season, it didn’t mean that Stiles had to enjoy, or have the capacity to run seven miles.

That girl could run though. Y/N.  Damn could she run.  She was fast and fit and very attractive.  Plus she always argued with Coach.

On this particular after school run, Stiles was feeling especially tired.  His desperate attempt to keep up with Scott “werewolf powers” Mccall failed as the pale boy fell behind in the first quarter mile.  On top of this, the powers of the mystical universe decided that he should trip over a branch that definitely wasn’t there three seconds ago and scrape both his knees.

As pain clouded his mind, the only thing that remained clear was that the “middle pack” that jogged together was not far behind, and if it caught up, Stiles would be trampled.  Luckily, his knight in shining armor showed up.

Y/N was running hard, headphones in without a care in the world when she came across a pale figure sprawled in the dirt.  ”Oh my god!  Are you okay?” she asked, pulling her headphones out.

"Mmphgl," she heard.

"I’ll take that as a ‘No, I’m in excruciating pain,’ You should get off the path before you get flattened by the middle pack."  Y/N helped him up to the side of the path and he sat down on a log.  Surprisingly, she sat down next to him.

"Aren’t you going to finish the run?" he asked.

"I have to make sure you’re alright, don’t I?  Anyway, I’m super clumsy so I happened to be prepared for stuff like this."  She pulled two band-aids and antibacterial ointment out of a pocket in her shorts.  "This is going to hurt a little," she said.  She straightened his knee, applied the ointment and the band-aid, and repeated with his other leg.

"Thanks," he said shyly.  Gathering up some courage, he stuck out his hand and asked (despite already knowing the answer), "Y/N, right?" She nodded and took his hand, shaking it. "I’m - "

"Stiles," she cut him off, "I know."  It felt like ice pressed against his wounds to hear her say his name.  But the joy was cut short by the sound of Coach yelling at the slowest runners to "PICK UP THE PACE.  YOU RUN SLOWER THAN MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER!"  The man took one look at the pair sitting down and rolled his eyes.

"Y/L/N, Stilinski, if you don’t start running now, bad things are going to happen," Coach threatened.

"He’s injured! Besides, what are you going to do? Kick me off the team?  I’m your best runner." Y/N said.

Coach huffed and walked away.  ”I hate it when you’re right.”

 


End file.
